


butterflies and dreams

by soapxmactavish



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: Drunken Confessions, F/M, Implied Self-Harm, M/M, also some good as fuck fluff, angst is strong in some, call of duty: modern warfare - Freeform, might be some smut i don't really know yet, oneshots, yes ghost is his sad self in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23981965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soapxmactavish/pseuds/soapxmactavish
Summary: a compilation of oneshots within call of duty, mainly of ayela gonzalez and soap mactavish, but also involves the other characters of the fandom. updated every so often :))
Relationships: John "Soap" MacTavish/Ayela "Goat" Gonzalez, John "Soap" MacTavish/Original Female Character(s), Simon "Ghost" Riley/Gary "Roach" Sanderson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	1. butterflies and dreams (ayela gonzalez x soap mactavish)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ayela and soap macatavish go on their first date, and it couldn't have been more perfect.

“Just _breathe_ ,” Ayela Gonzalez plead herself as she gave one last glance to herself in the mirror. Her dark brown hair was in a loose waterfall braid, baby strands sticking out in front of her ears. There was only minimal amounts of makeup on her face – mostly natural-looking, except for the tint of dark eyeshadow clouding around her eyes. She was dressed in a collared jacket with dark blue denim jeans and a pair of simple converses.

“So much for a fancy first date,” she lightly laughed. Hers and John’s plans were originally to go out to a restaurant renowned for its Italian. Since he had last-minute duty calls and needed an early morning tomorrow, they’d opted for simple Mexican somewhere local to his house. Ayela hadn’t minded – to be fair, she did like the Latin food _more._

Grabbing the keys, phone, and purse from the small table near her, she swung the front door open to the gentle Autumn breeze of England. Even though it was pretty cold compared to her Australian standards, she still felt comfortable in it. It was a nice cold, not the one where she froze herself.

Ayela closed the door behind her, and it locked behind her automatically with a small click. Setting out for her car parked by the kerb, she had a look around at the cloudy sky. There weren’t any signs of rain, thankfully.

Once settled in the driver’s seat, she turned on the engine, listening to the satisfying roar of her WRX. Not the most flattering of cars to the civilised person, but that didn’t matter when she flew around empty streets looking for a good time. _Live young, die young_.

With that happy thought in mind, she put her foot on the accelerator. Time to go and enjoy the night.

xxx

John was sitting in his Ford, leg shaking, butterflies fluttering all around in his stomach. No amount of special operation missions, or his first jump out of an aircraft, could suffice to this level of nerves in him. His blood was pumping more adrenaline than blood, and he’d regretted not working it out before his shower.

_You’ll do fine, son_ , his field commander, Captain Price, had said before they’d parted ways a few days earlier. John had only told him about it because of the obvious anxiety his body was showing back in the barracks of Credenhill. He had only nodded his head and held down his hands which shook.

_John MacTavish, the legendary operator of Task Force 141, was nervous over a first date?_ It almost sounded ridiculous to him. Pathetic, almost. What could he say, though? Years of training to kill and efficiently carry out missions didn’t go over a curriculum which involved having a first date which you’ve only talked to over the phone. He pushed that thought away from his head immediately. Didn’t need that sort of negativity to make his anxiety worse.

His hand shot out for his phone, and he checked for her last message.

**Ayela G: _i’ll be there in about 20! blue subaru, pretty sweet engine – you can’t miss it!_**

“Don’t lose your head, mate,” he said to himself, controlling his rapid chest. He closed his eyes, but reopened them as soon as he heard a loud rumble coming from the entrance of the driveway. John found himself checking out a navy blue car whose engine outrivaled majority of other vehicles he’d worked with. The floor vibrated with every rev.

“Far out,” he whispered in amazement, instantly needing a ride in it.

He grabbed the door handle, swinging it open. “Well, here goes nothing.”

xxx

Ayela couldn’t stop the red, heated flushes of her cheeks as she turned off her car. The surroundings were suddenly a lot quieter with the absence of its loud and beautiful engine. There was a buzz coming from the restaurant beside her, a faint combination of different conversations and waiters calling out for numbers. 

She spotted a broad-shoulders, athletically-built man stepping out of his grey Ford, whose eyes were glued to the bonnet of her Subaru. A laugh escaped from her as she exited the car. _I have competition with a bloody car now_.

The wind had picked up since she’d left her place, and the woman was grateful for her choice of jackets – with the thick material warming her insides up. It was just her face that was taking the soft blows now. Her hair was secured back, so having her face whipped by that wasn’t a worry at the moment.

Nerves were chewing her insides up, though, as she locked her car and eyed the man in front of her. He was dressed in a grey-white shirt, with dark grey cargo pants and light brown/orange timberlands. A grey hoody was thrown over his shoulder, probably for later tonight. His hair was dark and spiked up into a mohawk – it looked really good on him. Ayela figured him to be around six feet – not that she was good for judging height and distance.

_This must be John._

John’s eyes were darting between her and the bonnet as they approached each other. “Not sure if I want you or the car, I’ll admit,” he said with a smile on his face. Ayela took a brief second to realise just how thick his Scottish accent was – they hadn’t called each other before, only messaged. _This was going to be a good night_.

Ayela chuckled, arms crossed while she shrugged her shoulders. “Well, take _her_ on a date then.”

John raised an eyebrow, and she noticed the faint, thick scar which ran down past the left side of his face. It glinted in the lights and complemented his features really well. Then she looked into his eyes properly – a striking ice blue.

Damn, she was already attracted to the man.

“Not sure if I could handle her,” he laughed, before jerking his head towards the building vibrant with casual chatter and Latin music. “Want to head inside?”

Ayela nodded with a smile she couldn’t seem to wipe off her face. “ _Si_ , let’s go,” she answered, turning. John nodded in return and they walked in side by side.

xxx

John watched with admiration as Ayela had trouble keeping her laughter down, her eyes crinkling softly and a hand covering her mouth. He wished it wasn’t covered at that moment and could witness her in such a gorgeous way.

Some time had passed since the two had headed through the doors. After they were seated, there was nonstop chatter and reminiscing about old and newer memories. John had learned a lot about the woman sitting in front of her – she was a retail worker at a bookstore in the local plaza about forty minutes from Hereford. Her reason for moving from Australia a year ago was because she, “ _needed a new life away_ ”, and John hadn’t thought to pry into that bit. There were four brothers and she was pretty damn competitive since she’s the only daughter and that’s why her arrogance and cockiness was so outstanding sometimes. John was so interested in learning about these things, and he kept them stuck in his mind like glue.

“So,” she started, trying to string together a sentence, Latin accent evident. “you’re saying that…you got hit…in the head…with a gun…by your _captain_?!” Ayela lost it again by the time she finished, and John gave a simple nod, smiling at the memory.

“Aye,” he answered, sipping his corona. He wasn’t fond of the drink but knew he had to go along with the theme of the culture. After having trouble to down his drink without choking from laughter, he continued. “We were mucking around, and I got a knife a few centimetres too close at his beard.”

“The, quote, _dick-tickler_ , as you called it?” Ayela asked, still having to suppress her giggles.

John nodded, having a bit of a laugh himself. He’d told the story many times, and even though it wasn’t as funny as the first time, there was still a bit of humour found in it. What was making him laugh and smile as much as he was now was the beautiful sight in front of hhim. How Ayela had some of the bro, a contagious laugh, and, to top it all, off, the most gorgeous smile in the United Kingdom, was enough for him to start falling for her.

Ayela shook her head, looking down at the table, having another bite of her quesadilla. “Too good,” she added with a grin. She faced back to John, the smile still not cleaned from her face.

John cleared his throat subtly. “I’m not one for names and all, but you got any idea what yours mean?”

Ayela nodded. “It’s derived from _Aela_ , which means ‘angel’. Not sure where it’s from, exactly. I think it’s Latin?”

“Sounds Gaelic, if you ask me.” A faint smile was on his lips. “It’s a very beautiful name.”

There was a comfortable silence as the two looked at each other. John noted the baby hairs framing around her ears and the faint freckles on her nose. Having a sniper’s eye, they were easy details to pick up, but that didn’t get rid of their beauty.

Just looking at Ayela made him feel all warm inside his chest and not his usual brute self as he was when in uniform around his squad. She made him feel…different, and he liked it. To be honest, the man was getting sick of having to act as a tough soldier while he was in Special Forces. He was glad to have a break from all that if it meant he could experience this night and all its glory.

John could stare into those beautiful dark brown eyes for eternity and never get sick of them.

By looking at them, he could tell his scar was being looked at. The one which ran down the left of his face, from above his eyebrow down past his eye. Despite how much he was comfortable with the funnier war stories, the Scotsman wasn’t sure when he would be ready to delve into that bit of history.

John had gone over his life before the military. He’s one of six children in his family and had eight cousins, all spread out throughout the world – spread out mostly in the United States or United Kingdom. There are three sons (including him) and three girls, but the youngest of the sisters had died a few years from a car crash. John and his elder brother, Marcus, were the only ones to join the military.

Last time he was in contact with one of them was about three months ago when one of them had a child. There were plans to go and visit his new niece but work had caught up and there had been an argument between the two brothers during his leave, and John wasn’t sure if the invitation was still relevant. Maybe he’d give a call tomorrow.

John was grounded to reality by the faint vibration from his cargo pants’ pockets. Once his phone was fished out, he saw a message from his mate.

**Simon R: _Yeah, whatever. Good luck mate!_**

John resisted the urge to let his face light up, keeping his excitement hidden. He gave a quick glance at his wallpaper – his mates from the SAS – and time before pocketing it back inside. Quick, straight to the point, and the least offensive he could be at the table. Growing up in that sort of household where manners are a key component in lifestyle, the attitudes and methods inevitably stuck around in his adulthood. 

“Just something for tomorrow,” he briefly explained to Ayela, not wanting to ruin the surprise and leave her felt left out.

“ _Ja_ ,” she responded, giving a nod.

“It’s nine, do you want to go yet?” John asked, concerned for her wellbeing and comfort.

All he got in response was a shocked face and confusion. “It’s already nine? We’ve been here for, what, two hours now?”

The man laughed in response. “Yeah, it’s crazy.”

“Well, you’ve got work,” Ayela started, and John noted her lack of enthusiasm as she rose from her chair, her smile not so vibrant. “We should. _Vamos_.”

xxx

Ayela felt her body tense up as the bitter wind hit her in the face when the door was swung open. Once she knew John was outside, she made sure to close the door as quickly as possible, not wanting the restaurant to get cold. Didn’t need anyone yelling out a complaint. Good thing they weren’t at a pub.

Standing on the widened pathway, she looked at the outside diners of the place. They were conversing in small groups, and wearing thin-looking jackets and such. Ayela gave a confused and concerned look. “Aren’t they freezing?” Ayela asked, hurrying to find some cover from the November winds. These were examples of times when she missed the heat, and was envious of those enjoying summers at the beach in 35 degrees weather.

A laugh came from John, who looked unbothered by the winds. “You get used to it after a while.”

“What, it takes over a year after moving here to not be freezing?”

“Judging from you, it must,” he responded, adjusting his recently-thrown on hoodie. Ayela only sighed in amusement as they finally found a comfortable spot to stand in. They stood in the front of a large window of a closed home décor store, and Ayela peered in to have a look at the various pieces of couches and other furniture.

She gave a soft sigh and turned around and faced John, her insides still bubbly but more relaxed now. And there was also a hint of disappointment and sadness. She didn’t want him to leave her tonight. Not after the amazing time they had together just sitting there and talking.

“So,” Ayela started, unsure of what to say next. There was the temptation to beg him to not go tomorrow and to spend the night. This was one of the best nights she’d had in a while and was feeling pretty upset that it was ending so soon. How 3 hours passed so fast, she had no idea. She hated and loved losing herself in that time.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” John replied, hands tucked inside his jumper. Ayela’s cheeks couldn’t help but redden as she saw his nervous smile again. It was too cute for her not to react. She hoped she’d see it again, and she had a good feeling she would.

“Me too,” she replied, genuinely meaning what she said. “Thank you so much for paying, I’m buying next, alright?”

_Madre de Dios, Ayela._

Her date’s eyebrow raised, a playful smirk plastered on his face. “You’re implying a 'next time', eh? I like your confidence, Ayela,” he said, taking one last sip of his drink before throwing it in the bin.

She only shook her head with regret and her cheeks coated with a deep blush. _So embarrassing_. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to blurt that out. It’s just that-”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” John cut in with a reassuring smile and tone. Ayela found herself catching a brief glance at his lips, and cursed herself for being obvious. He silenced himself, scratching the back of his neck, and Ayela couldn’t help but pause to watch the masculine move with such awe – subtly, of course.

“I, uh, I have something to tell you…”

Every anxious thought and scenario popped up in her head. She was afraid and excited about what he was going to say – _is he asking for another date? Is he going to reject? Is he secretly gay and this was all a dare?_

“Yeah? What is it?” She replied, a nervous wreck inside. Her mind was racing and secretly hoped for the best.

“I have an open home tonight if you want to come.”

Ayela’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. This wasn’t what she was expecting. “Don’t you have work tomorrow? You know, big boy things?”

John gave a laugh coated with nervousness in return, shaking his head. “Someone else is covering up for me. That’s what the text was about.”

Mouth agape, Ayela gave him a slight punch in the arm. “You dick! Is that why you asked if I wanted to leave?” She asked with a laugh, all the tension left from her body.

John nodded. “Yeah, wanted to surprise you, that’s all.”

Ayela’s heart ached with such comfort and warmth. This man would have her killed by her own emotions soon, she swore. “That’s so sweet, John.”

“You up to come over, then?”

A frantic nod came out of nowhere, but Ayela composed herself quickly after. _God, girl – so damn eager!_

“I’d love to. That’d be so nice!”

There were smiles all around as the two turned to head for the Subaru. She turned to face the man walking alongside her.

“Aren’t you going to take your car to your place?”

John only gave a nod as they stopped by the driver’s door. Ayela watched as he stuck a hand out from his pocket and left it gripping on the handle. He stood there and just faced her.

“What?”

“Unlock it, maybe?”

Ayela gave a burst of laughter, embarrassed by her forgetfulness. She mumbled a “ _sorry_ ” and the lights flashed with a click. John only shook his head with an amused smile as he opened the door. He stepped to the side and gestured for the woman to get in.

As she realised what was going on, Ayela couldn’t help but break out _another_ smile with a blush. She just felt so flustered tonight and had trouble bottling in her emotions to a subtle level. This man was just doing things to her mind – not that she was complaining, though.

“How chivalrous,” she commented, hopping onto the driver seat.

John only shrugged his shoulders. “I have my moments.”

Ayela threw her things inside the centre console and turned to see John leaning down to face her. She was thrown off from the sudden movement but quickly regained control.

“You’ll follow me to my place? Or I follow you?”

Ayela gave a nod. “Your place sounds good.” She hadn’t cleaned up for his visit and didn’t want his first impressions to think she’s a slob of a person. It was safe to assume that given his military background, he was much more of a neater person than she could ever hope to be.

“Sounds good.”

There was a split second of hesitation and tension between the two of them. Ayela caught herself looking south of his eyes again, and she noticed him doing the same as well. There was no way their progression would be in a public place, she wanted that kept in between the two of them.

“See you in a few,” Ayela said, breaking the moment’s silence. With an awkward and eager laugh, John took off for his own car with a simple nod, no verbal response.

Meanwhile, Ayela shut the door and gripped the steering wheel, looking down at her laps and a look of embarrassment on her face. How could she be such an idiot in front of him? There’d be a few close calls where she was certain he would’ve called the whole thing off – like assuming there would be a next time and all.

_Doesn’t mean he’s not on the same level as you_ , she thought to herself. Unable to control her imagination, Ayela heard the Ford give a rumble as the engine was turned on.

With a cocky grin, she turned the keys to turn the engine over and could see John break out a laugh as she revved the engine in front of her.

“I win, bitch,” she murmured with a quick raise of her eyebrow, knowing the man had no idea of what she was saying.

xxx

John’s home wasn’t anything special. It was a single-level home with your standard garage and driveway. He’d done a lot of maintenance for his front lawn and the general appearance of the outside.

There was gratitude for himself for that extra effort as he pulled into the driveway, the white garage door illuminated by his headlights. He saw the automatic light switch on out of the corner of his eye and could see the front door lit by soft yellow lighting.

Upon switching off his car, John watched as Ayela’s car pulled up on the kerb. The neighbourhood was dead silent when it was switched off, and the man couldn’t help but miss its roar. _She knows her cars_ , he thought to himself as he waited for the woman to walk to him.

Eventually, Ayela caught up to him. He saw her give the front of his house a glance, before nodding in appreciation. “It looks good. You’ve kept her well.”

“Thanks. She’s not that old yet so it’s easy enough for now. Come on, I’ll let you inside.”

John’s chest was going insane as the pair walked to the front door, him in the lead. Why was he so nervous to show a guest his house? Grabbing the right key, he tried to reduce the shaking in his hands and not choose the wrong key. _Damn nerves getting in the way_.

He looked behind to Ayela, watching her tighten the jacket around her for warmth. That made him look a little faster. Being new in this house and having a million other keys didn’t help him.

Finally, John swung the door open, letting Ayela walk inside first. From just the doorway he could feel how much warmer it was in there than outside. Once he lights the fireplace, it would be even warmer for his guest.

“This place is nice,” Ayela commented, glancing around the living room. It was a cosy one, John thought, with its warm colours of dark brown floorboards, faded white walls, blue couches and a fireplace in the middle of the back main wall. He blessed his tastes of room décor and such.

There were photos hanging from his younger years and some random ones he’d taken throughout his years on military trips. John saw Ayela grab a photo frame, showing the time of his training in the 22 Regiment from several years ago. She gently placed it back down with a faint look of happiness and wonder.

“Thank you. I get picky when choosing furniture, can’t help it,” he replied, hanging the keys on the rack near the door. He started to make his way to the kitchen but was stopped in his tracks by Ayela’s look of amazement as she scanned her surroundings. John assumed she’d fallen in love with his house.

_Fair_ , he thought, thinking back to the Subaru parked outside on the road.

He’d stopped a few feet away from her and just needed to watch. Time had seemed to stop all around him and felt like he was floating and all warm inside. Just the sight of Ayela had a major effect on him, but he wasn’t complaining – not a single bit. Images and scenes played in his head – going out to places, walk through national parks, waking up next to her every day and seeing her sleepy self bathed in the rising sun’s rays. How the overhead lights shone down on her now was beautiful already – how her skin glowed and eyes were lit up. It was so beautiful. 

In uniform, he’s the legendary Captain MacTavish – a battle-hardened, merciless operator in an elite squad. There was no escape from that, except for Ayela. For the first time in a very long time, John preferred something else than the respect and privilege for his role. In a heartbeat, he’d throw away his rank – hell, even become a war criminal – if it meant he could be with Ayela for as long as he could.

John thought himself as pathetic, a lovesick puppy. How could someone have such a drastic effect on him if they’ve only ever met once in reality? They went out for dinner, chatted for a few hours, and he wished that for eternity now.

He was grounded to reality when he realised Ayela was looking straight at him, who seemed to have stop circling around. They were both quiet, just looking at each other. John had thought to grab a knife and stab the tension because it was so thick.

His throat closed up, chest beating heavily, a comfortable warmth inside him. He was at lost for words, too distracted by the stunning beauty standing in front of him, who looked so flustered, confused, and that gorgeous smile made his thoughts crash instantly. In a trance he couldn’t escape.

“What?” Ayela asked, give a sharp exhale of a soft laugh.

John felt his feet suddenly start approaching closer towards her, stopping only within a metre. Eyes flickered down from those eyes of dark chocolate south to the lips which looked so inviting, so soft. Quickly, he focused back into her eyes. He swallowed, trying to calm his racing mind, keep himself from not making any rash decisions.

His heart skipped a beat as his sniper’s eyes saw her eyes flicker down to his own lips. The room was so warm, he found it hard to breathe. _No, it’s just you mate._

_Go for it._

John placed a hand gently on her cheek, feeling her softness under calloused, battle-worn skin. It felt the movement as she broke out in another smile, her eyes crinkling along with it. His thumb grazed over her cheek, craving the touch. It became his favourite.

Before he realised it, their faces were leaning closer together, and, slowly, their lips finally met. John MacTavish felt his whole body ignite, a sear of relief and joy and warmth oozing through his body and mind. Every nightmare was forgotten and replaced with bright hopes for their future. 

And the whole world felt right for once. 


	2. missing from his arms (soap mactavish x ayela gonzalez)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> soap mactavish is full of regret and in desperate need to find his sergeant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count: 2 307  
> warnings: none, except for a depressed soap MacTavish :(

Three nights had passed since Sergeant Gonzalez had been announced MIA.

Captain MacTavish sat on the desk chair, head aching and drowsiness sweeping over him. The lights caused a pounding in his head and he gave another rub at his eyes, trying to get rid of the sleepiness threatening to make him fall unconscious. He hadn’t closed his eyes for 36 hours, and even then he had little sleep. Thanks to commander privileges and the kitchen’s endless supply of caffeine, the impossible was possible for a small while.

“She’s gotta be somewhere around there,” he whispered, sipping at his fourth coffee within the past two hours. Their mission had gone badly wrong, when Ayela had been chased down by a group of militia, drawing them away from the small party of MacTavish and Sanderson. The latter had taken the blow of an IED left in the jungle, leaving him in a heavily-damaged state. Of course, something else had triggered the mine, and the force of the shrapnel and fire threw them backwards.

Ayela had taken it upon herself to draw the incoming savages away from them to allow them to escape.

It had been the last time the captain laid eyes on her since, her last words being, “ _Both of you get to safety!’,_ before she disappeared behind the thick foliage of trees. She had left a wounded man and a capable but distraught commander. A lover who had screamed for her name as he lost sight of her and desperate for her return back to him.

Captain MacTavish flicked his attention back to the files on his desk, satellite imagery of the Vietnam jungle spanning hundreds of square miles. They showed the area of operations of where they last saw the Sergeant before she disappeared. She could have been anywhere on there – near waterways, underground caves, or even captured behind enemy lines, or worse…

He shook the thought, hand slowly pulling back into a fist. The captain had barely been restrained from his commanding officer, General Shepherd, after the search was discontinued 24 hours later to look for Sergeant Gonzalez. He had called his personal pilot, Nikolai, but the whole operation had been banned by the US Army General. MacTavish knew what game he was playing and thought of reporting him, though he knew that was as suicide task. If the captain complained, everything he’d worked for – his rank, his position in the SAS, the Task Force he’d built from the ground up – would be snatched away from him as soon as the General ordered it.

The soldier wouldn’t hide it – he was angry, terrified, and panicking about what could happen to her. Not only was guilt gnawing him up on the inside as he’d failed as a field commander, he’d lost the one thing he swore to never lose. Had he known the outcomes, he would’ve ditched Sanderson and placed her in charge without a second thought.

 _You’d never, yer lovesick bastard_ , he thought to himself. It was true – he’d know how much stress his sergeant would’ve been under. MacTavish would rather he go through the trouble of looking and worrying and late nights than her. It came at the cost of her being missing, though, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Jolting back to an awake state of mind, the soldier heard footfalls coming from the other side of his cabin’s door. He faced the door, rubbing his face as the handle turned, and the door opened, without a care of being loud at oh-two-hundred hours, a godforsaken hour.

Sanderson stood there, his arm resting in a sling, his left foot in a boot. A bruise was forming upon his forehead where medical tape was stuck, covering his wounds which would scar in a while. There was a mask of tiredness over his face and body. The image of a beaten-up member of his team made MacTavish feel sick to his stomach, and only increased the guilt he felt within himself.

_All your fault. You did this._

MacTavish watched with saddened and pained eyes as the sergeant eventually made his way to the made bed, easing down to sit on it without hurting himself any further. Sanderson sighed with his eyes closed, probably trying to endure the pain he was in. They reopened and shifted from the Scotsman’s tired face to the papers strewn on the oak wood desk. A soft shake of his head came, and understanding dawned on his face. A look of confusion was also there, and sympathy, as far as the captain could read on his face.

MacTavish didn’t want it. He didn’t need it, cared for it, nor _deserved_ it. Who should feel bad for the one responsible?

Sanderson broke the steady silence in the room, which was weighing MacTavish down like a blanket. “You’re still looking.” It was more of a statement than a question. His captain stayed silent and only gave a small nod. His eyes were looking off somewhere at the blank wall in between them, unfocused. There was nothing to say, nothing which would fix the wrongs he’s made in the past few days.

“I am,” he replied, his voice low and soft, hardly there. This was the first time he’d spoken to someone within a dozen or so hours. The captain had been cooped up in his room, looking for answers to questions he couldn’t answer. This unexpected visit at this ridiculous hour was welcoming, yes, but not sure if he could bottle up his emotions like the officer he was supposed to be. This wasn’t how you acted when you’re meant to be a leader, an example.

Silent as a mouse, MacTavish adjusted himself on his chair, grabbing a mustard yellow folder from the unorganized mess laid out on his table. Carefully, he held it in his hands, handling it as if it was art. He flicked it open, his heart aching, whole body in pain in plain sight yet hidden from Sanderson who sat only a metre or so away, who’d remained quiet the whole time.

Ayela’s character profile. Her face ID, rank, military history, date of birth, and the rest of the important information which were necessary, were laid out in front of him. Not that he was interested in the first few pages, anyway.

MacTavish’s finger felt the small paper clip gripping onto the side of random papers in the back/bottom of the pile. He slid out what it held, and it revealed a photo of the main squad of Sanderson, Riley, Price, MacTavish, and Ayela. Nikolai was also in the photo, on the other side of MacTavish. The Scotsman had his rifle in one hand, his other free arm around his sergeant. Though unprofessional in the eyes of the code of conduct, neither of them really cared at that moment.

The captain remembered that day clearer than any other in these past few years. They were about to head out for a mission and were all fatigued from hardly any sleep after being on an all-nighter mission. Ayela had the wonderful idea of taking a group photo to somehow lift morale. It’d worked – they were all smiling after it and were much more talkative to one other.

MacTavish had managed to get the photo printed out and kept it. He’d planned to give it to the sole female soldier in the photo but hadn’t known exactly when seemed the appropriate time was to. The two hadn’t taken many pictures together, and he wasn’t sure of what ones she’d kept in hand.

The soldier’s thumb grazed over Ayela’s cheek, reddened by the bright smile she bore. Her hair was considerably messed up, her braid in somewhat need of tightening up. The tired look from her brown eyes was still there but coated up with joy and happiness and humour from whatever dumb thing Sanderson had whispered in her ear when they’d taken the photo. She looked so beautiful in his eyes, the one treasure he’d never known he’d needed. His lifeline, purpose to keep going easier in this life and not be a total die-hard soldier who would just serve his country and not make every day “just another day at the office”.

When she’d first been transferred nineteen months ago, there was admiration at an instant. She was the first female to be associated with the British SAS and was more capable than a considerable amount of the soldiers already here. Her confidence and ability to stand up for herself when someone thought of her position to be underserving was staggeringly amazing to the captain. How easy it was for her to _belong_ here, in this team, side by side with her mates, never failed to knock MacTavish off of his feet.

What made him fall in the last depths for her was just how understanding she was, and how she motivated everyone around to keep going, to never give up. During his darkest times which lasted over a year after he’d lost his own Captain, there was an uncertainty to how long he’d last without mentally losing it, succumbing to the demons which were eating him alive. He’d become so sick of being _himself_ – a leader who had to set an example and inspire and make a change for the world. The weight was getting to him – of responsibility for himself and those around him.

No one was even aware at times, though Ghost had seen glimpses of a breaking man, something which he was very familiar with. They had never spoken about it though since the captain always brushed him off and denied anything was wrong with him. The Lieutenant wasn’t about to argue with his superior officer, and the two never brought the subject back up again.

Ayela was the only one whose help he’d accepted – more or less because she’d somewhat forced him to. He would never forget that first conversation where they’d sat down in his room and spoke for hours about only _him_ and _his_ troubles. There was nothing put in about her history – about how her mother neglected her three children and Ayela became the unofficial guardian of her two younger brothers who needed someone to take care of them.

The only thing that did come out of her mouth was how she believed in him and this was not the end, that he had more life to live and shouldn’t have to spend it worrying about who he’d become and how losing his Captain was not his fault. There was no judging, no shaming, no pointing out flaws or mistakes – only motivational, uplifting speaking. Words that were equally truthful and evidence that he was better than this.

That night was one of the longest, sleepless nights MacTavish ever had, but it was out of good circumstances. He’d laid in the dark, and thought long and hard about what she’d said. More importantly – about what they’d become. It was evidently something more than a commander/subordinate relationship. His feelings for her had only become so much more dynamic, and he knew he had to do something about it.

The captain had made the first move the very next night after seeing Ayela for the first time since their talk. She was more than ready for him, and so was he. MacTavish had accepted and realised that she was what he needed all this time – someone to talk to, someone who listened and wouldn’t stop until she knew he was okay, someone who saw him as other than a soldier. He was more than ready to intake her mindset of never giving up and keeping it at like an addict was hooked on a drug.

He had fallen in love with her, and that had been the seal to lock it in.

MacTavish hadn’t known he’d teared up until he saw a drop of moisture hit the paper. Slightly embarrassed, he quickly wiped his eyes before setting the file back down on the table. He gave a sigh and slouched onto the back of the chair.

“We’ll find her,” Sanderson assured, who had witnessed the whole thing before him. MacTavish rubbed the tears and tired out of his face. He turned to Sanderson, his reddened eyes gazing down onto the blanket, pondering in thought still.

The sergeant spoke up again, slowly leaning forward to come closer to the Captain. “I spoke to Riley,” he began in a hushed tone, “and he’s more than willing to take us back there-“

MacTavish’s eyes darted instantly to Sanderson’s, full attention on him. His breath caught in his throat and listened to every word Sanderson had to say.

“-and more than willing to give whatever support you need, okay?”

The captain’s eyes looked into his squad member’s with such desperation, hands clasped tightly together as if praying to God. His breaths were slow and steady, and he felt the dried tears stained on his cheeks, a constant reminder of what was at risk. He was more than ready to go ahead and ready to take the full blow of what his superiors will do to him once they return.

“What time are wheels up?”

“They’re up in ten minutes, mate,” Riley’s voice suddenly came from the doorway, and the two soldiers in the room turned to face him. The lieutenant was already dressed in his gear with his iconic skull balaclava. His rifle was in his hands and webbing secured around his shoulders and waist. How did he know what the Captain was doing? Must’ve been the sergeant sitting in front of him.

Riley jerked his head to the left, in the general directions of the hangars. “Better head out as soon as we can.”

“Come on,” Sanderson urged the Captain, giving his knee a slap as he slowly got up. “Let’s go get your girl.”


	3. eye of the storm (ghost x roach)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ghost is a lot more protective of roach and lets him sleep in the chopper's cabin.

It was quiet in the back of the helicopter. Captain MacTavish was sitting on the edge of the chopper, alert and ready for any immediate danger. A fresh bandage was dressed around his shoulder, the result of a stray bullet going right through his muscle. The pilot, whose name wasn’t known by the men sitting within the cabin, hadn’t said a word to them since takeoff, only the occasional radio checks and status updates to his superior.

Captain Price, looking as ragged as ever, was sitting by the edge, his left leg swinging outside of the chopper. A cigar was in his hands, his gaze down on the blue Pacific Ocean, silent. Probably dwelling on thoughts in his mind – over the past 3 years he’d been left to rot in the gulag for. MacTavish looked at him with a soft smile

Meanwhile, Sanderson was still held by Riley, his head resting against the lieutenant’s chest covered in pockets of ammunition and miscellaneous equipment. Their legs were sprawled out in front of them, the sergeant’s ass sort of wedged on top of the officer’s thigh. He was exhausted after a long day and just needed a rest. Riley was more than willing to give him one.

The lieutenant sat against the chairs on the floor, which was comfortably wide enough to fit the two brawny men and leave enough legroom for the captains to move around if they’d needed to. Even though they were both focused on something else, Riley couldn’t help but hope that they’d stay that way for the duration of Sanderson’s power nap. He didn’t want anyone looking at them, not at this moment.

Riley longed for some privacy with the sergeant, just a few minutes of intimacy and comfort. MacTavish nor Price didn’t think of their relationship as anything bad, but the lieutenant felt bad that he’d gotten Sanderson into this. Their personal and military lives should’ve stayed separate – and he’d managed to spill the beans within less than four months. He gave himself a slow, mental clap.

Riley couldn’t help but starting it. Sure, he’d been in past relationships as a lad in his years of high school, but he hadn’t had such serious feelings for anyone before. Not before he’d met the soldier who was currently snuggled in his arms.

It way back when the sergeant first tried out for a spot in the task force. Seeing his scores, Riley couldn’t help but admire his capabilities, which had later earned him a spot in his team. After Operation Kingfish (doomed to such an extent they couldn’t believe), recovering in the infirmary at Hereford, the lieutenant had a feeling of long for someone. He didn’t know who exactly, but he couldn’t get the sergeant out of his mind for quite some time.

Once back in the game, after the Sergeant’s and Captain’s return from the Kazakhstan mountains and upon about hearing the near-death of Sanderson, Riley knew he wouldn’t ever look at his teammate the same way. When he’d had the nagging thoughts of the worst-case scenario and what could have happened if not for MacTavish’s help, the relief in Sanderson’s eyes was enough to evoke some kind of emotion in his own mind. _Relief, joy_ …

_Love_.

By then, he was unsure of his feelings, but he made a promise to never let Sanderson be in harm’s way again. Sure, it wasn’t easy considering their line of work, but the anxiety and stress never left. Even when they were pinned down or pushing through enemy forces, the adrenaline only made his feelings and emotion all the more worse.

Having Sanderson go through the militia by himself without any backup scared the lieutenant more than he liked. It was by an absolute miracle that someone didn’t blind-fire from a door and sent a bullet through his skull or RPG’d his ass. If not for the utmost importance of getting Alejandro and get everything they’d needed out of him, the lieutenant would’ve hurried his way to fight through the favela with the sergeant. The warnings through the radio were constant and stern, sure, but they were of good reason.

But it was soon after that, though, when they were running across rooftops to Nikolai, when the sergeant had missed MacTavish’s hand, leaving him plummeting down to the alley floor…that was when Riley knew.

He was in massive trouble. Not just by the code of the SAS, but within himself. He had something else to lose in this nightmare of war, other than just a teammate. A friend, a comrade.

His sergeant.

And by God would he let no one touch him.

Riley had debated whether or not to go down to Sanderson and lead him out of the trouble, but MacTavish needed his assistance after being shot in the shoulder and was in a heap of pain. The lieutenant trusted the sergeant to make his way out on his own, had hoped that he wouldn’t share the same fate of the fallen militia in that very alley.

And with his mind frantic and eyes darting everywhere, the captain had spotted his soldier emerging from the doorway and leaping out into the air. MacTavish’s sudden yell of triumph and the small jolt of the helicopter indicated Sanderson had made it, and Riley had never been so relieved of his teammate’s survival before. There’d never been an urge to hold someone and never let go as strong as it was in that moment.

The next biggest challenge was seeing if the sergeant felt the same way about his superior. Riley felt guilty – he didn’t want to do this to someone who wasn’t willing. But that wouldn’t let overcome his relief and the insane feeling of goodness when he’d gripped the sergeant’s hand and pulled him on board.

To his surprise, Sanderson celebrated this small moment with a bone-crushing hug, Riley in his weary and bloody arms. He’d cradled his face inside the lieutenant’s neck, which smelled of sweat and gunpowder, a scent Riley knew the sergeant would come to love.

MacTavish had stayed silent during that moment, leaving them be. Riley managed to slip a thumbs-up in thanks but was soon holding his Sanderson tight in both arms once again. He could remember the sweat and blood filling his senses, but he didn’t mind it one bit.

He was just grateful to have his sergeant alive and reunited with him. The worst was over. 


	4. you saved me (ghost x roach)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm going to try and start actual chapters instead of just long descriptions of what the characters are thinking and all that jazz. mayyyybe some smut, but most definitely some fluff and angst. I'll even do with my less-thought-of ships like ghost x soap, alex x farah if i can. all in due time!

Simon Riley had never felt so refreshed after a sleep.

Maybe it was because he looked with groggy and tired brown eyes down at the man who was held in his arms, knowing full well that Gary Sanderson was finally _his_. After so many months of longing, of those sleepless nights wishing for a dream he was so damn afraid wouldn’t come true, pure relief and joy washed over his body as the universe granted the one wish he’d desired. Every breath exhaled and banished the fear, the worry, the anxiety which had plagued his mind and his soul for so many years beforehand.

Gary’s back was tucked up right Simon’s chest and in his sturdy and protective arms, as close as humanly and comfortably as possible. Simon buried his head within the neck in front of him, the one he’d kissed and loved so affectionately the previous night, leaving not a scratch on the priceless beauty. He’d never bring him any harm, and that was a promise he’d vowed and repeated over and over like a mantra. It was a constant reminder of his responsibility to protect the man he called his until the moment he drew his last breath – even if it costed him his own life.

Even though they both had brawny builds and were of similar size, Simon was only bigger by a little, and that comforted him, bringing satisfaction of a small bonus. He was glad to hold his lover in his arms, and not the other way around. He was glad that he was no longer the comforted, the weaker, the one in need of saving anymore. No, Simon Riley grew out of that and became the _comforter_ – he was willingly Gary’s shield against the demons and enemies who sought after their blood, eager to take the blows in order to save him and not burden him. For now, though, they were free, sooner rather than later, and Simon couldn’t have been any happier.

Simon felt as both of their chests rose and fell with steady, even breaths. The white sheets draped over their naked bodies were hardly of any use, as the air in the sleeping quarters was warm, accompanied with a peaceful silence. Grateful for how far the barracks were from the training and more actively populated areas, the man was able to finally take a break from the soldier’s life and just appreciate these small moments in peace without a care of who he was going to kill next.

Gary’s hand were held within Simon’s, a thumb caressing them with the utmost delicacy. Simon Riley wasn’t a verbal lover – he thought the physical touch spoke more than a thousand compliments. Though, he could never refuse the praise and speak the thousandth assurances and promises of the day – something he couldn’t help but be sure wasn’t a letdown of a trait. He hoped – no, he _knew_ – that with every piece of words and every touch was met with nothing more or less than appreciation. Each was complemented with a reply of a soft kiss or two, a murmur of fondness, or, if he was lucky, a quiet embrace with the beautiful silence, letting the two enjoy their intimate presence.

Simon Riley knew he would fall in love with the meek sergeant he’d met just over a year ago. At first, he hadn’t been sure of what drew him so close – he’d assumed it was the humour, how approachable and arrogant he’d carried himself – he’d had every right to, considering he along with Simon was handpicked into an elite squad so very few got the opportunity to even _whisper_ about. Then his theories were full of how attractive the man was. The physical training was definitely something he’d looked forward to, knowing that he’d have a show to watch to get him through the agony they had to endure with every push, shove, heave, and pull. None of the other men caught his eye like the sergeant had, and that was definitely saying something.

It wasn’t until that moment when they were sitting together in front of the bare campfire they’d scraped together on that winter night when the lieutenant realised the truth. When Gary sat there, carefully holding together the broken soldier in his arms who was barely recovering from a breakdown, when he’d refused to let him out of his sight even after their return to base after not sleeping in fear he’d have another episode, and when the nightmares and hauntings stopped for that split millisecond as Gary’s voice soothed him and brought him back down to earth, was when Simon realised that this was the one person in the entire world who he loved and needed more than anything nor anyone in the world.

“You saved me,” Simon whispered, gazing at the back of the head of the sleeping man, one he’d be eternally indebted to. A tear rolled down his cheeks, landing on the pillow which he rested his head.

He was caught off guard as he felt his arm was held onto tighter, feeling gentle lips and warm breath on it. A feeling he’d grown to love and cherish forever, imprinted on his skin as a permanent mark of love and hope.

Simon remained still as he felt the mattress shift, and helped Gary roll himself gently on top of him. He held his hips with gentleness, supporting his weight, and Gary had his hands side by side Simon’s shoulders. The mattress shifted as Simon felt Gary put a hand onto his cheek, thumb softly caressing it. The larger man looked up at the smaller, gazing at his small freckles on his cheeks and nose, before locking eye contact. Both were rid of any fatigue, instead only full of devotion and love.

“Ans I’m never letting ya go,” his lover replied. They both smiled as Gary leaned down, and sealed that pledge with a deep yet soft kiss. 


End file.
